Day 13 - Sunday Fundays

12:50
The last few kilometres of the cab ride were pretty sketchy, but as you can tell from the fact that you’re reading this, we made it. Hilia, the owner of my guesthouse had kindly stayed up to welcome me to Palolem. I fall, almost instantly, into bed, and am quickly asleep, with the AC purring gently above me.

I wake around 08:00, which is earlier than I’d have ideally liked, but later than I’d feared. I feel pretty well rested, and decide to go for a morning walk. My bearings are a little off. Palolem Beach is a stunning, c. 2km long crescent shaped beach. I’ve typically stayed at the northern end of the beach, but find myself at the southern tip on this stay. I aim for the beach, using the position of the sun as my guide, and manage to find it after not too many false starts.

Walking onto the beach stops me in my tracks. Staring first left, to the South, then to the right/North, it brings back physical and mental memories of previous visits, of some incredibly happy moments in my life. At the far end of the beach is a small island that I christened Jeff Island on my first visit to Goa. The sun sets beside it, and is one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. I’ll head back to the beach later to watch it in all its glory.

I walk for maybe 20 minutes, and end up at the main beach road in Palolem. There seems to be less commerce activity actually ON the beach in Palolem. A lot of the guesthouses and bars/restaurants used to encroach way down on to the sand, so that particularly at high tide, there was a fairly limited amount of sand on which to walk up and down the beach. Whether it’s a response to falling demand, or (more likely IMO) a restriction by local government agencies, I’m not sure.

i manage to buy a vape in downtown Palolem, but it needs charging. Instead, I resort to my emergency cigarettes. Vicki made me promise to always travel with a pack, just in case… I park up at a cafe called Kansas, order a coffee, and light up. The first couple of drags are deeply unpleasant, but I quickly normalise. I’m conscious that I must look incredibly cool - at least 30% cooler than usual. I have a decent imitation of a Shakshuka for breakfast, and contentedly people watch and read for an hour or so. I’m pleasantly surprised to see some fairly young travellers in Palolem. Walking down the beach earlier, I’d have put the average age of western travellers at somewhere North of 60. Clearly, the younger crowd are hanging out in this hipster haven of flat whites, smoothies and avocado toasts.

I walk back along the road through Palolem village. I feel so incredibly relaxed here already. It’s not that the past 10 days have been stressful per se - but I’ve felt like I’ve always been switched on. Illness didn’t help. As we drove down from the airport last night, I could feel myself switching off, and I’m incredibly excited for the next two weeks of not switching back on.

Debs and Darron are heading out for lunch today, and then heading over here to Palolem as Darron’s playing at a bar later. I decide to forego the lunch part of proceedings, but I’ll hook up wit the later at 9pm Bar. It’s a mere 3 minute wobble down the road from my guesthouse. On the way back to Hilia’s I pass by a bottle shop that’s advertising a locally brewed craft beer. Gotta try some of that…

16:30
I’ve had a great afternoon. Almost nothing happened. I head from Hilia’s to the beach, and set up shop at Art Resort’s bar/restaurant. We were gonna stay here back in early 2022 I think. We didn’t in the end, because the Indian government had enforced incredibly stringent visa rules for UK travellers, as revenge for the UK closing its borders to Indian travellers during the worst of the pandemic. Petty doesn’t come close. We went to St Lucia instead, and it was glorious.

Anyways, the bar area at Art Resort is lovely - right down on the beach, with a cool (and cool) covered area. Today, there’s an afternoon Blues gig happening. A guy that I would guess is in his 70s playing more than decent Blues guitar on an acoustic, with a little harmonica accompaniment.

I order a Kingfisher, and am brought a large bottle - 650ml I think. i order another, but ask for a smaller bottle, and am brought a large bottle - 650ml I think. I ask for a third, and - guess what?

The sun is shining, and I gaze out at the beach for much of the time I’m sitting here. There’s a guy riding a bicycle up and down the beach. I think he does 5 full laps during my tenure. Maybe he’s lost, maybe it’s exercise. It matters not. There’s a thronging mix of beach inhabitants. Plenty of Indian tourists, plenty of western tourists. A real mix of ages as well - some young travellers (by which I mean in their 20s) and some as old as 70 at a guess. There are some kids of various nationalities,

A couple that sound like they’re from Manchester sit down next to me and order some food. Amongst their order is an okra masala fry, which - when it turns up - looks and smells sensational. When they’re finished, I ask if it tastes as good as it looks, and yes - it does. I’ll be back for some later. My plan (if you can even call it that) is to head back to my room, freshen up, then come back down to Art Resort for sundowners, sunset, and a quick bite, before heading over to 9pm for Darron’s gig.

Sounds simple, right?

22:15
The sunset down at Art Resort is a bit of a moment. I can’t exactly remember the last time I saw a Palolem sunset, but it’s been far too fucking long. I sit and stare for quite some time. The world continue to go by as I watch. The sun starts to hint at the horizon. I order some food - that okra curry the Manc couple ordered earlier, plus some tandoor roti. Banging. The okra curry is just sensational. I’m sure there’s nothing particularly complex about it, but it’s one of the nicest things I’ve eaten in quite some time.

I briefly consider a rest before heading out, but time is against me. I said I’d meet DnD at 9pm at 7pm. Confused? Me too. I get to 9pm a little before 7pm, and am told to do one, fairly abruptly. Come back at 19:30 is the message. I pop next door to a place called Mandala. When I walk in, there’s banging psytrance playing, and I settle down in a comfy chill out type area with a Kingfisher. Moments later, a dog voms all over the cushion on which I’m sitting. Happily, Debbie arrives, and distracts me.

Darron’s been allowed into the bar next door, and is having great fun playing his heart out. This isn’t an ‘official’ part of the London House Music agenda, but plenty of the same people are here. I meet some new friends, cackle with Debbie quite a bit, and decide that a decent night’s sleep is gonna be my friend.

Tomorrow, Patnem, and all that that will entail….Weiterlesen